Chapter Forty-Five
My heart is beating wildly, and I want to jump up and yell that it’s me, Sasha, that I’ve come for him, but I suppress the suicidal impulse. Instead, I check my angles, then adjust my body in such a way that none of the guards can see me wave my gloved hand at my father.
He has two black eyes and his face is swollen, so it’s hard to tell if he saw my beauty-pageant-worthy maneuver or not.
Hoping that he did, I tilt my body once more to cover another gesture: using my extended thumb and pinkie, I mime answering a phone.
I think he lifts his head, but that could be my imagination.
Even if he did see what I did, I have no idea if he understood. Did they even have phones in Russia during the czar’s reign?
The guards herd us into the corridor, preventing me from any mor
